Affirmation of Life
by retina burn
Summary: OutlawQueen. Exploring what would have happened if Robin had been with Regina in the mines, and he had to hear her say, "Let me die as Regina..."


_Let me die as Regina._

The words are a sword through his heart, and it doesn't matter that he's with her now as everything falls to pieces around them, nothing will erase that moment of looking into her eyes and seeing that firm belief and heartbreaking resignation in her eyes, leveled at him in silent apology. There is so much unsaid and yet to be experienced between them, but as they might all perish in only a few moments, Robin's sole focus is simply assuring her that he loves her.

She can't move, he knows that, but he hopes that by wrapping an arm around her waist, resting a hand on her forearm, it can give her just a bit more strength, and carry her through to the next moment, and the next. They might live through this, after all.

"I _can't_…" Her voice stumbles and drags itself brokenly across the heavy air between them, and he squeezes her forearm, lips pressing to her temple.

The desire to remain the eternal optimist and insist that she _can_ is quelled by the rational part of his mind, telling him that she knows her limits and the breadth of her strength, and if there is any hope left, she _will _find it, and he'll lead her there because he doesn't intend to leave her side. He knows she expected that, her heart in this perpetual purgatory, waiting for everyone to leave her for something or someone else.

She won't be alone, if this is the last moment they'll ever share together. If the next breath she takes is her last, he wants it to slow dance with their love as everything falls to shadow.

"I love you," he tells her, for the first time.

The gasp she emits is severed with a choking sob, and he chastises himself for waiting to tell her. There were going to be so many more chances to say it, more opportune moments. And now they're left with mere seconds, and he regrets it all.

He _should_ be telling her this while they're tangled in one another's arms, while they're each attempting to catch their breaths as the heat from their frenetic lovemaking pulses like a living entity between them, begging to be given life again, and again. He should be telling her while their hearts beat erratically, their bodies slamming together in some clumsy attempt to become more than just _this_, to be part of each other.

He should be telling her when he can capture the skipping pulse at the hollow of her throat with his lips.

But this is all they have, so he says it again.

"I love you. I always will."

_Always_ is, perhaps, meaningless now, but he'll speak the truth even as the ground trembles beneath them. As his lips press to her temple again, Robin's eyes widen when he realizes the magic she's using begins to change color; it's _light_ magic. _How_?

The why becomes less important when he realizes that the light magic is stronger, far stronger, and it seems to be working, at last.

A breathless, stunted laugh escapes his lips, and he's reinvigorated, actively encouraging her now, rather than just comforting. She's silent in response, but it doesn't matter, it's working, and she's saving them all. After a few more minutes pass, she folds her hands together and gasps out loud, shutting her eyes for a moment. Then, her body seems completely depleted, and she leans heavily against him, still saying nothing, but grabbing a fistful of his shirt, tugging at him.

He doesn't even ask, he just wraps his arms around her in a way that allows him to scoop her up, cradling her against him. There's a strange contrast, with her body a bit stiff, as though protesting the action, yet at the same time, her head comes to rest against his chest.

"I'll have you home in just a moment," he promises.

A bit _more _than a moment, but she just nods, her eyes closed as she takes deep breaths. She's _nothing_ in his arms, only a slight weight, and as they walk, she grows limper and limper, leading him to wonder if she's fallen asleep completely.

But when he makes it to her house and they step through the door, Regina shifts in his arms, jerking a bit and stiffening.

"Put me down," she insists, her voice weary, though her words are oddly clipped.

She doesn't even look at him once she's on her feet, just turns away, starting to make her way up the stairs.

"Regina-"

"I'm _fine_." Her back is to him, and she's standing so straight, gripping the banister and tilting her head up. "You can go."

After all that they'd just been through?

Why was she-

His thoughts finally catch up, and Robin grants her the courtesy of a moment alone, a moment to compose herself, because he understands. She's about to fall apart, and though she did that in the mines, it didn't matter then because it was all going to be over. There wouldn't be fallout, there wouldn't be sad eyes and hollow words attempting to comfort. Everything turned out alright, and she hadn't planned for that, and he _knows her_.

"I don't intend to go anywhere," Robin finally says, quickly closing the gap between them, standing behind her now with barely an inch between her back and his chest.

"_Leave_," the words are like icicles slicing through the air, but he remains undeterred.

He keeps that inch between them, but he does press his fingers to the top of her wrist while he speaks again, purposely making the words fall against her neck. "_Regina_. Look at me." He's urging her to turn around, yet his tone is so soft, the implication that if it really is too much, he won't begrudge her this. He won't resent her need to push him away, and simply never come back. He knows that's what she expects, but that won't happen.

There's no response, but she shrugs his hand away.

"Regina. I'm with you. You're not alone, you never need to be again."

A few moments tick by, and she finally turns around. There are tears in her eyes, falling down her cheeks, and he reaches up, cradling her face between his hands, thumbs brushing the tears away.

"I have you," he promises.

She searches his eyes - for what, he's not sure - and then it's like a switch is flipped, and suddenly her lips are crashing against his, a loud whimper the only sound filling the air around them as her hands clutch at him, working to get his clothes off.

Every instinct is telling him they should take this slow, yet his perpetual desire to make her happy, his commitment to do anything she asks is unwavering. This is a silent plea, but a plea nonetheless, and he can't help but oblige her. It's not the first time they've had sex, not at all, but he does worry that she might do something driven by visceral emotions that she'll later come to regret. And maybe he should stop her.

But then her tongue is gliding across his lower lip, and he _can't_. He can't stop her. But he _can _take care of her. Matching her pace, Robin swiftly tugs her top off, unhooking her bra and letting it fall to the ground beneath them. He's lost in the taste of her, and the heat of their friction lingers like burnt cinnamon against the tip of his tongue. He can _feel _everything, even the intangible things they're creating with their fervor: _home_, and a soft place to fall.

This is about her, about whatever she needs, and his fingernails scrape lightly down her hips, pushing her trousers off, helping her to step away so she won't trip when they move from this spot. He has to know, and he reaches down, letting his fingers brush and tease at her underwear, groaning when he realizes how wet she is already, and then he pushes that off, too.

The moment his own trousers and underwear are off, he's suddenly lifting her again, but this time, their chests are pressed together, and her legs wrap around his hips, arms around his neck as their teeth and tongues tangle together so violently he's not sure if they're about to make love or wage war; perhaps something in between, a tango of the minds as much as the heart and soul. This is just a prelude, though. He doesn't intend to leave anytime soon.

They make it to the top of the stairs, and she's rocking up against him in a way that's far too maddening for him to make it a step further.

They slam against the wall, and the apology starting on his lips is immediately nipped away by her teeth. There's a slight metallic taste as their lips are on each other's again, and he's groaning, because she must be fully aware of what she's doing to him.

Since she won't allow him to apologize for the roughness, one hand briefly reaches up to cradle the back of her head, two fingers brushing over over her hair while his other arm is firmly around her, keeping her braced against the wall.

"This was supposed to be about you, love," he breathes out, and her hips jerk up violently against his hardness, causing his breath to hitch.

"This _is _about me," she insists, and then her fingers roughly wrap around his cock, dragging with maddening slowness down to the tip before she finally lines him up with her hips and takes him into her. Her head slams back against the wall again, and she seems thrilled by it, as though the fleeting pain heightens her senses.

He's paying attention to all of that, of course, tucking it away for future use, but then his thoughts reorganize, and he moves his hand away from her head to brace against the wall, wasting no time in thrusting against her with their bodies now joined.

They _fit _together, like two shards of broken glass coming together to form something whole, tangible, and beautiful all over again. It's as though their heated thrusts are their way of putting their souls back together, after far too many years of being separated.

"_Fuck_," Regina murmurs, pressing her cheek against his, her fingers curling around his neck as her hips match the pace of his thrusts. It's what she needs, he knows that now. This is an affirmation of _life_, their breaths fast and hot, their hearts pounding so hard he can hear _hers_ in his own ear.

He's panting now, his eyes closed tightly, and as he moves, he's flashing back to that moment in the mine, to those words she'd uttered with such acceptance and finality, as though expecting him to just leave her there forever. Alone.

_Never_.

The thought of that compels his next thrust, and it's so rough, hitting nerve endings that have never been stimulated before for her that her climax takes her completely by surprise, her nails digging into his skin as she cries out his name. His breath is uneven and a loud moan escapes as he climaxes shortly after her, shifting to press his forehead to the back of her neck while he attempts to catch his breath.

They don't untangle at all, but a few moments later, still facing one another and wrapped around each other, Robin carries Regina to her bedroom, laying her down against the pillows.

She's flat on her back, and he takes a few long moments to simply admire her resplendent form, his fingertips tender and doting as they traverse the soft curves of her body. She smiles crookedly up at him, reaching a hand up to card her fingers through his hair.

"You're annoyingly stubborn sometimes," she says.

"This time, it was for a good cause. And I hardly hear you protesting now," he grins, leaning in to kiss her lips.

"How did you…"

"Know?"

_That deep down, she really wanted him to stay._

She nods, and her eyes are so much softer now, the tension gone from her limbs.

"I know your heart. _My lady_." He shifts, kissing her chest, right over where her heart is, and he's satisfied when he realizes it's still attempting to slow down to a normal rhythm.

He'll have to disrupt that.

"Yours?" She quirks an eyebrow at him, though a smile is playing on her lips.

"Mine," he affirms. "Bold of me, perhaps, but you've captured my heart, Regina. I could do nothing else but love you now. And I happen to think I'm quite good at it."

The tenderness in his eyes shifts to something else, a wicked grin on his own lips as he dips his head, kissing a circle around her right nipple. His left hand rests flat against her other breast, though after a moment, he's rolling that nipple between his fingers. In tandem, his lips are sucking at the other breast, the tip of his tongue flicking it until it's pebbled and hard.

More satisfying than the way her body is reacting is the assortment of sounds she's already emitting, her left leg now lifted up, rather than stretched flat on the bed. Her foot drags back and forth across the sheets as she begins to tremble, and then he switches breasts.

She wasn't expecting this, and that makes it even better.

"Robin...what…" She gasps, one hand clutching at the sheets as he continues to blaze a trail of hot kisses down the length of her body.

He takes his time, adoring her, finding places to nip and kiss on her hips and abdomen. When he reaches her pelvis, he lets his teeth scrape the soft skin there, filled with immense pleasure when there's a sudden jolt from her, and she's gripping his hair now with her other hand.

His tongue and lips soothe that mark, and then he lets his mouth hover over her, breathing in the heady scent of her, aroused already by how wet she is again.

He makes a slight movement, like he might pull away, and it's just to tease, just to have something fun and playful between them after the events of today. She pulls at his hair a bit, groaning, "Don't you _dare_…"

"I wouldn't _dream_ of it," he promises, and then he presses both hands to her hips, dipping his tongue into her.

Once again, he takes his time, knowing the firm, slow strokes are going to feel good, and gradually push her closer to the edge. He pays attention to her, as always, adjusting to her needs, to what will satisfy her. She seems incapable of speaking anything coherent after a little while, but that loud groan tells him she's getting close.

With his tongue dragging heavily across her clit, he begins to make clockwise motions around it, groaning himself when he feels it throb against the tip of his tongue. Then, he picks up the pace, flicking his tongue back and forth in rapid succession against her clit, holding onto her even as her hips jerk and her body writhes. He knows the moment she climaxes, when her grip on him suddenly tenses so much it's painful for a moment, and then she goes limp, a long, low moan hanging in the air.

He takes his time licking up her wetness, and then kisses up her stomach and across her chest before pressing his lips to hers softly. She's so pliable as he tugs her into his arms, coaxing her head to rest against his chest, and she just lays there limply, quiet as she works to catch her breath.

Finally, she looks up at him, cupping a hand to his cheek as she stares into his eyes, a soft, grateful smile on her lips.

"I love you, too."


End file.
